


Nightmares

by irlmaxxor



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-15
Updated: 2015-09-15
Packaged: 2018-04-21 00:20:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4807760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irlmaxxor/pseuds/irlmaxxor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Accepting prompts over on Tumblr, DJ-Slappy-D asked for "Fiddlestan: One of them has a nightmare and is comforted by the other :3" Naturally I had to oblige.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nightmares

Indistinct mumbling broke through a heavy silence; panicked mutterings and half-choked cries. A weary Fiddleford awoke to the sound, turning over and shooting a half-hearted frown at the source.

“Mmn, Stanley…? What time is it?”

No response, nothing that made sense at least. He could catch words here and there, a slurred “ _please_ ”, a hushed “ _don’t_ ”, but Stan was clearly in the midst of a dream, muttering gibberish and little more. Fiddleford chuckled despite himself, wondering what must be running through Stan’s subconscious to work him up to such an excited state. He hauled himself up, leaning over his beloved and brushing the hair from his face. It had clung to his forehead, cold and clammy and coated in sweat…

Wait.

“D-Don’t… Don’t let him…”

Something was wrong. Squinting, Fiddleford silently begged that his eyes adjust to the light faster, peering over Stan and trying to get a better look. Through the dark he could just about make out his body, shivering, sweaty and pale. He reached out, shaking Stan’s shoulder gently, calling out as softly as he were able.

“S-Stanley…? Can y’hear me, love?”

“No– Didn’t mean it… Ford, _don’t_ …”

The flow of nonsense had started to gain coherence, a _narrative,_ and Stan’s condition grew worse with each passing minute. He started to twitch, reaching out and grabbing at the bedsheets, bundling what he could into his fists and curling into himself instinctively. Fiddleford was overcome with a wave of nausea, completely and utterly helpless as a faint whimper, “ _don’t leave me on my own_ ” drifted past his ears, barely loud enough to hear. 

“ _Stanley-_ ” His voice cut through the still, night air laced with panic, and with a newfound incentive he attempted to rouse his boyfriend once more, shaking his arm and repeating his name, over and over until– 

“ ** _Shit–!!_** ”

Stan jolted awake, coming to with a shrill yell, shoving Fiddleford away and scrambling backwards, toppling off the bed into a crumpled, shivering heap on the floor. 

“ _Get away from me_ \- Who… Where am I?” He paused, rubbing his head and wiping fresh tears from his eyes as he attempted to re-familiarise himself with his surroundings. “Wait, Fidds? Oh, oh crap-! Fidds, you okay?” 

“Sweet sarsaparilla, Stanley!” He hissed, crawling over to Stan’s side of the bed and peering down, “Y’gave me a _heart attack._ ”

“Oh,” He muttered, praying Fiddleford didn’t hear his voice crack. “God, I’m sorry- I was just… I was just havin’ a bad dream.” 

“Hey, hey now…” McGucket shook his head, climbing down from bed and curling up against Stanley’s side. He couldn’t help but relax into a tired grin as his affection was gracefully accepted, letting Stan scoop him up and hold him in his lap, arms tight around his thin frame while a continuous stream of apologies spilled from his mouth. Fiddleford sighed, taking his hands and kissing the palm, the fingers, muttering gentle apologies of his own. 

“C’mon, Darlin’. It was just a dream, you don’t need to worry… It was all in your head, nothin’s real, nothin’s happenin’ to you… You’re _fine_.”

A long silence followed, broken only by the occasional sorry sniff from Stanley behind him. Fiddleford wanted to turn around, wanted to cup his cheeks and kiss him softly and stop his needless remorse before it could leave his lips, but he knew how highly Stan valued his pride; it wasn’t a coincidence that Fiddleford had been pulled into a position that allowed Stan to hide his vulnerable expression.

Finally he spoke, face pressed against the back of Fiddleford’s head, mumbling into his hair. 

“Sorry. Shouldn’t’ve let a dream spook me like that. I didn’t mean t’push you away, it…” He trailed off, still trembling. “It was an instinct.” 

The thought of Stan having _reason_ to develop such an instinct caused pain beyond words. Fiddleford’s mind reached back to the beginning of their relationship, Stan’s careful policing of personal space, how long it took him to warm to a touch again… He didn’t know what to say, if there was anything _to_ say, other than:

“That’s alright, sweetheart. I understand. I’m here, y’take all the time you need…”

His words hung heavy in the air, and Fiddleford remained tense throughout the ensuing silence, hands gripping Stan’s as if his life depended on it. All he wanted was to help, but he was _useless,_ he never knew the right thing to say, nor when to say it, and everything that _did_ escape his shambles of a content filter came out a garbled, wasted mess.

“God, I love you so much. You always know just what to say.”

… Or, maybe not. Not this time, at least. The tension faded, melting to a much welcomed serenity as Fiddleford relaxed back into Stanley, who was trailing a line of light kisses down the back of his neck.

“Love you more,” He muttered in response, finally stretching and turning around to bury his face into the blissful familiarity of Stan’s old, worn nightshirt. 

“ _Impossible_.”

Fiddleford started to laugh, but was cut off by Stanley lifting his chin with a finger, slowly _, excruciatingly slowly_ closing the gap with a kiss. His eyes glazed over, closing as he moved his lips against Stan’s, stretching his arms around his neck and pressing flush against him. 

Moments later they parted, breathless, but smiling ear to ear. 

“Uhm- Stan?” Fiddleford mumbled, still a little taken aback, “Did you want to move back into bed…?”

“Right, yeah,” Stan mumbled, laughing nervously. “As long as you’re there with me, nerd.”

“Forever and always.”

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry if that seemed kinda' rushed / sloppy toward the end, writing kiss scenes is my mortal enemy.


End file.
